


Corruption

by degradedpsychotic, silvermane



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, definitely violent, demonverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 01:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5848465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/degradedpsychotic/pseuds/degradedpsychotic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvermane/pseuds/silvermane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cloud Strife was nearly complete in his guardianship training when Sephiroth waged war in Heaven and dragged him down. Now a fallen angel turned incubus, Sephiroth has given him a target: Zack Fair, one of the most prolific demon hunters in Midgar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this is a raw rp, the way we wrote it.

This target...will not be an easy one.

He’s been given a name, a description, one primary feather plucked to be dabbed against the blood he’s to draw. And the simple order that Cloud Strife does not return to Sephiroth’s manor until the deed is _done_. 

_“You will be unwelcome here until you’ve bitten from the strongest demon hunter in the city.”_

His wings are tucked away, gone from his back save for the smallest dusting of down where they might be summoned if he had need of them. And apart from pupils that slit when his tension levels are high...he looks... _human_. 

It’s been three days since he was cast from Sephiroth’s manor, three days of trying to stay out of the way of the city while tracking down the single name and reputation he was given.

_Zack Fair._

There was nearly nothing but fear on the demon circuit. He was strong, well known for the number of horns counted to his name.

At first, Cloud feared the seduction the most, but as the third night begins to draw to a close, and Cloud is left without sustenance for a full 72 hours now...he’s afraid he’ll be picked off by a keen hunter well before he ever sees Fair.

He has one advantage, for being a weak incubus - he can hide. He can blend, not bound by dark demon’s wings, blackened sclera or curved horns. Still though. One slip, one jolt of anxiety and no one would miss the way his soft crystal eyes would tighten jade and _slitted_. 

\-----------

He has a plaque above his hearth claiming him a hero, citizen of the year, a thanks on behalf of the city. Zack Fair has kept them safe from the beasts that lurk in the dark, even honored by the police force…

Currently, he's taking a small break, polishing his blade with silver as the TV drones in the background. It's a quiet night. His phone is dark, untouched…

He's bored.

He can only sit and polish for so long before he gets antsy. So he puts a silver knife on his belt and exits his apartment, planning on running down to the corner store just to buy some snacks or… _something_.

The fresh air helps almost more than the walk, and his eyes scan the area for danger as a reflex. 

But he's watching a hunched over woman across the road when he bumps into someone, hands immediately reaching to steady the smaller body.

“Sorry, man! You okay?”

\----------------

The smell of silver polish burns at his nostrils, a steadily built association with _danger_. The hunger is nearly unbearable by this point, and he considers breaking one of Sephiroth’s well worn rules…

_Only feed from your target…_

He’s distracted, and so when he’s bumped, his eyes tighten and he _feels_ it, the threading thrumming _pulse_ to defend himself, to fight, to bare fangs or perhaps run.

Hand pass over him, to steady him, though he smells at the silver polish. He doesn’t look up until he has control of his eyes again, knowing he’s so _close_ to a hunter…

Beautiful, deep blue eyes peer into his, and Cloud’s mouth goes _dry_. A shock of dark hair cascades down from a beautiful face, and it’s the scar along his jaw that makes Cloud recognize him.

He’s...young. Beautiful. Somehow Cloud expected someone far older, far more...experienced.

“...s-sorry,” he manages, though all he can hear is this man’s thrumming heartbeat, the blood so _close_ to the surface. He’s so starved he would forgo the sex just to taste blood again...were it not so _dangerous_.

Immediately he knows where this man’s blades are, the silver at his hip that could easily spell his end. 

He rests a hand on the man’s forearm when his nerves return, overcoming the intense urge to _run_. His eyebrows soften over his expression, and a pink tongue darts out to lick over plump lips…

\------------

He can sense something off about this man almost immediately. The way he seems so _anxious…_ Though, it _is_ pretty dark out. Easy to have someone spooked.

“Nah, nah,” he says with a smile, watching that pink tongue…

He does have to admit, this stranger is… oddly beautiful. A gentle rounded face, plump eyes, wide blue eyes…

And the hand on his arm is so _warm…_

“My fault. You… Okay though? You look a little spooked.”

He's seen stalking victims before. People so scared that they jump at shadows… And he knows how to help them.

And someone so small, so beautiful… An easy target.

\----------

The lie is so easy, so quickly drawn from his lips. He glances over his shoulder at a sudden noise, letting himself be pressed closer to that frame. 

A demon hunter might have a hero complex. And the soft voice, the way he speaks _soothingly_...Cloud knows there isn’t a better way than to stroke this man’s ego. 

_It’s probably the only way to do this._

“Something...something’s after me,” he whispers, letting both hands now grip a little tighter onto those forearms. And it’s not _entirely_ a lie. He knows he raised some eyebrows the other night, and hunters looking for glory don’t ask so many questions. And he _has_ noticed movement in the shadows, though he doubts it’s from any demon. 

\-----------

He can't see why anyone would lie about being _hunted._

“Come with me?” he offers softly, brushing aside his jacket to show the knife. “I'm Zack.”

Everyone in the town knows his name by now, after all.

And as those hands hold him tighter, he simply takes the man on his arm, heading back to the apartment.

“What's your name?” he asks as they begin climbing flights of stairs to his apartment. A distraction, to get them to _relax._

\------

He hides carefully his reaction of _fear_ to see that blade, knowing that this man is showing him comfort and protection. Still, every nerve in Cloud’s body demands he be on his guard, to be ready in case it were drawn against him. And that name...he’s somehow _found_ his target…

After just a moment he leans in against the older, feeling the weight and warmth of human flesh against his own. He can smell polish and silver and leather, apart and separate from the man’s natural scent. It would be intoxicating...were he not so nervous. 

He climbs the stairs, feeling a touch awkward, trying to make sure his footfalls are in the same step so as not to tug awkwardly on that arm… 

“Cloud,” he whispers softly, crystal blue eyes lifting guilelessly to look Zack over. 

He _is_ handsome. 

It’s the kind of mark an incubus _would_ make, strong and hale, with so much spirit and strength of soul. Cloud can smell a purity about him, a lack of debauchery that would make his blood sour or the sex less fulfilling. Perhaps not a virgin, but…

Cloud can smell it’s been a _while_ at least. 

“...it’s...it’s an honor to meet you,” he whispers.

_I’ve been desperate to meet you._

\-------

“You too, Cloud.”

He pulls his arm free to unlock his apartment, holding it open for Cloud to enter.

And yet, he notices that his usual pendant is resting on the coffee table and _glowing_ …

He licks his lips, pretends to ignore it.

“I could give you a charm to help repel whatever's after you. Go ahead and have a seat.”

So this man is a demon. Classic tactic, _lying_ as a victim. But he looks rather human, which is what confused him in the first place…

He's the one being hunted, now.

\------

Charms...don’t work the same way for fallen angels turned demons as just plain demons. He knows as Sephiroth would test them out on _him_. 

Silver has a different effect on angels, it’s more of a poison than a killer. Were Cloud to get any in his bloodstream, he would fall very ill, but not the same numbness or death a demon would face. He is...lucky, in that regard. 

So when he’s offered a charm, he nods. It won’t hurt him, perhaps will keep him safe from any suspicions…

Amid the lights of the phone, the tv...Cloud doesn’t notice the pendant. Moreover he doesn’t _know_ to look for it. 

He sits down on the couch, but watches Zack quietly. 

He’ll have to be careful. Humans react so differently to demons than to other humans, and Zack’s gentleness might dissolve in an instant. And Cloud, if he’s not careful, might not be quick enough to avoid the blade he sees resting against another chair, not far from him…

“Thank you,” he calls softly, watching that expression for any change. 

\-----------

Cloud doesn't seem too intent on attacking, nor does he run. But he keeps eyes on him as he moves to the couch, watches those eyes dart to the blade…

But he smiles, opening a bureau full of charmed jewelry and clothing. Artifacts, gifts, his own purchases… All to make his home safe, and to give to those that need them.

He picks a pendant of silver that holds a purified stone within, one that is so faintly glowing as an alarm… It's charmed to _repel_ demons, the stone itself vibrating within its silver cage to produce a noise so high that only dogs and demons can hear.

The polite smile still in place, he offers the chain and pendant to Cloud.

“Here you are. This'll keep you safe. Did you want to stay a bit? You still look a bit pale.”

If Cloud intends to kill him, he'll take any chance he can get…

\-------

His head begins to ache the moment the pendant comes near, something he knows he’ll be able to tolerate…

He’s offered to stay, and Cloud’s head raises slightly. The pain makes his eyes briefly change, flitting to slitted as he tries to mask it. 

He’s _hungry_. Hungry and rather starved...and he licks his lips with a brief glance to Zack’s neck…

He fixes the mistake, eyes darting back to that youthful, handsome face.

“...I’d...be grateful.”

The apartment is small. Perhaps only one bedroom. He may yet be able to worm his way into this man’s bed, if he’s _fortunate_. 

\---------

_There._

It's so brief that he nearly misses it, the way those pupils threaten to narrow to demonic slits. The way they dart to his neck, only half hidden by his collar, a jugular so _close…_

     _Why haven't you attacked me yet?_

“No problem,” he continues, though his smile falters. He masks it as concern as he strolls to a linen closet, rummaging until he finds a spare pillow and blanket.

_Don't think you're getting in my bed._

“Couch or bed?” he offers. “I could get you something to drink too. Something to eat?”

Demons only run on sex and blood. Food, water… It does little to them but turn them sluggish.

“You're safe here, Cloud.”

             _You won't get away…_

\----------

There’s something in that gaze that suddenly makes Cloud feel unsafe, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Some shift in the way his smile falters, the way he notices he’s been more closely _watched_ …

“...Couch,” he whispers, licking his lips. When Zack offers food...drink, something in him shifts, a sudden surge of _need_ that shows on his face. A desperation…

As he was not born damned, there is allowances his body makes, adjustments. For one, he still has a pulse, something of a rarity for demons...and for another, food and drink will not slake the bloodthirst, but sometimes help with the feeling of _emptiness_ …

As a once holy creature he finds himself drawn, however _hypocritically_ to things that have not involved death - juices and plants rather than meats. Sephiroth’s voice ever lingers, berating him for drinking _juice_ when there’s a throat filled with blood.

The cruel words are ingrained at this point. 

_If you were stronger, you wouldn’t be so laughably pathetic. Perhaps you might even become stronger, yet you waste your appetite on human filth._

But now more than ever he fears being found out. 

“...do you...have juice?”

\--------

He chooses the couch. He asks for _juice._

...is he just being paranoid?

He hands over the blanket and pillow for Cloud to get comfortable, drifting through the open doorway to the small kitchenette. He opens the fridge, providing his back, an easy target…

“I got apple and orange juices. Any preference?”

If he were a demon, he wouldn't choose to drink. Why put himself at risk…? The glow of the stones cannot lie, and yet…

He's heard of fallen angels turned damned, though he's never encountered one. They're more discreet, though twice as dangerous… The only one he knows of is an infamous monster with silver hair and a single black wing that terrorizes whomever and wherever he wants, whenever he wants…

Cloud… seems almost _innocent_ , compared to that.

\-------

Fingers brush Zack’s hand, half intentional and half _accidental._

The fantasy, though it rides the razor’s edge between life and death, is an oddly _addictive_ one. That he was hunted by a demon, found himself in the arms of a savior...was taken home, offered food...drink…

A world of kindness after Sephiroth’s coldness. He knows it’s far from _deserved_ ; he is by no means innocent of the crime of rebellion. He was damned with Sephiroth, given over to him to live out the rest of whatever remains of his existence. Immortal though his years may be, his body still yet can be pierced by silver blades or bullets. It may take more than a normal demon, but he would fall. 

Still. It’s on him now to _survive_. And bedding the most prolific hunter in the city...perhaps the _country..._ would go a long way in upping his status. Perhaps one day he might be strong enough for Sephiroth to let him _go_. 

“...apple,” he answers, folding the blanket and kicking off dark boots. He wears black, to match the night, or perhaps because Sephiroth enjoys seeing him in dark colors. 

Yet again his hunger takes the best of him. Blue eyes slip to Zack’s throat and he _forces_ himself to look away.

\-----------

He takes his time to pour the juice, keeping his back unguarded and vulnerable… Though Cloud never moves to attack.

Maybe he's paranoid.

It's been awhile since his last kill. A demon nearly raping and _eating_ a woman in an alley, dispatched by a silver blade through his back. One week ago.

He offers the cup to Cloud when he's finished, and it's his turn to let their fingers linger.

He's… drawn to Cloud. And he knows how dangerous that could be, how easy it would be to fall for an incubus charm. He knows he can't afford to do it…

But he can't help it. Cloud's skin is warm and soft, and his lips… He has to wonder what they taste like, after that tongue has wetted them so often…

He pulls his knife from his pocket, tossing it to sit on the table beside his shining charm.

And he sits on the couch, right next to Cloud.

“So what'd you think was stalkin’ you out there?” Light conversation. Just… to gather information.

\--------

It’s nothing he exerts _consciously_ , though he wonders if he’s doing it as a defensive reflex…

He was not an incubus by birth but by _creation_ , Sephiroth taking sick joy in turning him into one of the most _debauched_ creatures, one that lives on _rape_. And he’s been charmed, spelled, given the ability to _seduce…_

And he wonders how much he’s doing it now, when the man who makes his hackles stand on end comes close, letting his fingers brush over Cloud’s pale ones. 

He startles briefly, however, when that hand suddenly and quickly draws and tosses the blade. His reflexes are still terribly raw. 

Blue eyes settle though, when Zack sits beside him. Again, he inhales softly of the scent of polish and leather…

“...just saw it from the shadows…”

_Smelled the scent of silver, watched eyes glint with greed. A lower hunter…_

“... haven’t had anywhere to go for three days, nearly.”

_A laugh. The brief grab of his cloak before he managed to hide in a sea of people…_

Cloud shrugs, and his haunted expression is not manufactured.

_His shoulders quake…_

Slowly...daringly...Cloud lays his head on Zack’s shoulder.

\----------

The startle when his knife is drawn and discarded proves nothing. If he’s a victim, he’s already spooked. If he’s a demon, of _course_ that would scare him. But he isn’t going to come right out and _ask_ \-- He’ll get a “no” regardless of which he is.

But the story checks out. Demons lurking in shadow, stalking their prey for days, possibly _weeks_

before they finally come back to strike. It’s possible that he’s gotten Cloud just in time…

Then again, _hunters_ tend to have the same behavior.

But he looks so _scared_ … that Zack is willing to believe he’s human. Perhaps he just has the _stench_ of demon on him, or a hair or claw that snagged on his clothes… The stone isn’t glowing _bright_ , so perhaps

it’s only picking up on traces…

He doesn’t know how the charms work on fallen angels.

“You can stay here for as long as it takes for it to lose interest,” he invites, though he’s unabashed when that head rests on his shoulder. Many a victim wants only _comfort_ , and the weight of his head is warm and welcome… So it just seems like _reflex_ to put his arm around those faintly trembling shoulders.

“You’re safe here.”

\-----------

When he's accepted to that shoulder, Cloud relaxes a bit, dragging a deep breath that he releases in a soft sigh.

He's not experienced, in active seduction. He knows this case will require a delicacy that he isn't used to, a thin edge to keep his hunger at bay while also edging closer to his goal…

_Please don't hurt me, for what I’m to do…_

He's grateful that Sephiroth's orders were not to _kill_ , as taking the life of a human gently offering him food and housing...it's bitter. 

Cloud nuzzles into that shoulder slightly, taking hold of the cup to sip. He's sensitive to acidic tastes, but the sweet apple is perfect...and it _does_ take a small bit of the edge off…

He finds that hand oddly soothing, despite the clear danger this man poses to him. 

“...how long...does that usually last?”

_….how long do you think Sephiroth will remain focused on me?_

\----------

He watches Cloud take a sip of the juice, to see if there’s going to be any soured reaction… but there’s none. He seems to _appreciate_ it, hands folding over the cup as he moves closer into Zack’s shoulder like a cat thanking him for milk.

“...If it’s been after you for three days already, I’d give it another day or two. It’ll lose interest.”

_It_. Not _they_. Just a shadow-lurking monster, preying on the weak…

He takes a long inhale to prepare for a tired sigh, but he catches Cloud’s _scent_ \--

It’s… sweet, almost. Alluring, gentle, almost _innocent_. Not of sulfur or smoke, but perhaps gentle detergent or soaps. And perhaps that is what lulls him closer, arm gently guiding Cloud to move _close_ , head dropping to gentle blond spikes…

“...Is this the first time you’ve ever been stalked?”

\-------------

Cloud lets himself be pulled close, though for just a split second it reminds him all too well of Sephiroth's gentle but heartless touches…

“....no,” he answers, hearing Zack inhale and knowing his guard is steadily lowering…

“....there was another….”

_Does he dare…?_

Sephiroth would stalk him, unpredictably close or far away. Never to help, only to _punish…_

“...one with...silver hair.”

He knows Sephiroth is considered the god of this underworld. Far more frightening than any mindless animal of a demon. Far more cunning…

\----------

Any relaxation he had instantly leaves him as soon as Cloud mentions _silver hair_.

The fallen angel, the _god_ of the things that lurk in the night. Nameless and terrifying,

he’s never heard of him _stalking_. He always just… shows up, kills, and that’s all

the reports claim. He moves like a ghost, and only those lucky enough to have been 

only well-hidden bystanders are the sole reason they even know he exists.

He stands, crossing briskly over to his window to peek through the blinds.

“...You’ve heard of him, right? I… didn’t think he wasted time with _stalking_ …”

No way Cloud is a demon. Why would _he_ be after him if he was? He’s never heard of demons killing or stalking other demons…

“...You’ll be safer in my room tonight. I’m sure he’s not above breaking in.”


	2. Chapter 2

The tension he feels in the other is palpable and it reignites his own anxiety. 

He’s more than heard of him...far better acquainted with sadistic eyes and wickedness than anyone in the city. His throat still throbs from the last treatment, of being held aloft by nothing but his throat…

Cloud turns his head, pressing it to Zack's shoulder, as if hiding….

...and then, he proves his case. One single black feather, Sephiroth's. His order to lay it somewhere in the hunter’s house, to make it easy for his master to find…

He presents the feather quietly.

“...here..”

His voice trembles. 

“...a-are you sure? Don’t...want to...overstay my welcome….”

\-----------

He turns to Cloud as the smaller hides behind him, tucking the curtains to ensure they’re shut before putting an arm around those thin shoulders to guide him towards his windowless bedroom…

But he pauses when Cloud presents a feather, eyes wide.

Silver hair. A single black, feathered wing.

He takes it with wide eyes, twirling it between thumb and forefinger. He wonders where Cloud

had obtained it, if it had been left somewhere near him as a sort of _warning_. Or if he had retraced

his steps and simply _found_ it…

It’s far too large and well-preened to be from a crow or raven. He holds it over the faintly glowing stone on the table, watching the light grow a bit stronger…

“...So that’s what it was picking up on,” he murmurs, setting the feather on top of the 

glowing rock. His brow furrows in concern as he moves to lock up the apartment, from

the deadbolt on the door to the thumb-locks on the windows. His arm wraps around 

Cloud’s shoulders again, steering him once more to the bedroom after shutting off the

lights in the main area.

“I’m not gonna force you out so that thing can kill you, Cloud. Just… stay here ‘til it moves on.”

\----------

Cloud follows silently. His breath comes short, gazing at the bed. Cloud can feel the sigil over the door, dragging in a breath of anxiety as he leans in against Zack’s shoulder…

He's starving still. Blue eyes lift briefly to that neck...smelling the blood and knowing it's so close…

“...have you...ever fought him?”

Is that what this is about? Has he slighted Cloud's master, in some way? He knows so little about Sephiroth’s politics, kept in his bedroom as a toy, ‘training’ for the few missions he’s given and granted small tastes of blood…

\----------

He can feel just how tight Cloud’s shoulders are, tense and _frightened_. He releases him once they’re in the room to close and lock the door, the ward burnt into the inside of the wooden door.

“Fought him? No,” he confesses, doing a quick inventory check of the weapons he has hidden 

around his room. A spare sword in his closet, knives in drawers, books, under his pillow…

“I’ve heard a lot about him. The Nightmare. One-Winged Angel. Whatever you wanna call him.

Didn’t think he was the stalking kind. Usually sweeps in, sometimes he rapes before he kills.”

He gives a tense smile, moving to turn down the sheets.

“Kinda excited, though. If he shows up, I can finally put an end to all of it. Just worried about you,

though.”

\----------

Cloud watched Sephiroth fight legions of angels. He watched Sephiroth slay the immortal, witnessed the bloodbath he himself was also condemned for. Angels were to guard humans, and the thought of this one human making a stand against Sephiroth…

_Why is it that the thought of this man's death creates such...pain in him?_

Cloud settles beneath the sheets, letting himself actually feel then instead of being dragged across for no other reason than Sephiroth's pleasure. Slowly, that head comes to lay on the pillow.

“...I...I would not fight him,” he whispers, his voice...tense, “.....I...don't know if any mortal can fell him.” Even the most powerful demons fell to him. His first order of business in fact: execute the top level demons. Cut off the head of the serpent. Appoint himself _god_. 

And as prolific as Zack is….

Blue eyes lift to Zack’s, and something passes through the younger. A sudden feeling of _warmth_ , of affection...the very thought of this man standing before Sephiroth... _scares_ Cloud.

He reaches up, a strange _urge_ to slide his fingers along Zack’s jaw. He feels the soft dip of the scar on the left, immediately _knowing_ where it came from…

_A demon’s blade. It had Zack pinned, after several other victims, wearing the younger hunter out. It’s only mistake was to toy with him._

\---------

He gives a… _sick_ sort of smile, pulling open the drawer of his bedside table to ensure that the small revolver there is loaded with silver bullets before he slips into bed beside Cloud, folding his arms behind his head and looking up at the shadow.

“I’m gonna try. Kind of a… personal vendetta,” he confesses softly, the words holding the weight of _mourning_ there. But he doesn’t speak on it, reaching the lightswitch on the wall where a headboard should be to turn it off.

“...Someone’s gotta kill him,” he murmurs, stilling slightly under the gentle touch to his jaw, to 

a scar… And yet, he doesn’t pull away, but rather leans into the touch, feeling at ease with this

stranger beside him.

He exhales slowly, allowing his eyes to close.

“...He took someone from me. He took someone from… a lot of people.”

\----------

Cloud’s fingers still continue to touch softly, listening to Zack speak of a loss.

_Aerith._

The name comes to him, unbidden. Aerith. 

He’s never heard the name before, but he _knows_ it all the same. A beautiful young woman, important to Zack. Zack’s grief lasted years, and even now is not yet...gone.

Cloud lifts his head to rest on that chest, his mouth so _close_ to Zack’s neck. 

His teeth grow sharp from lack of blood, urging him onto that pulse, to _bite_. 

Yet the thought of harming him...makes Cloud feel suddenly _ill_. 

“...you’ve...been in a lot of pain,” he remarks softly, “...it’s...it’s why you became a hunter...isn’t it?”

The intuition comes quickly, and Cloud finds himself a touch _frightened_ at the information that comes, piece by piece to his psyche.

He shouldn’t know this much about anyone. 

He would only know about Zack if he were--

...his guardian. 

But he’s fallen now. Corrupt. An incubus living on blood and sex. 

_Those_ instincts rise at once, and his mouth finds that neck enough to plant soft kisses into his pulse. To see if he can _arouse_ the other by subtle means.

\----------

He turns back to stare at the ceiling as Cloud comes to rest on his chest, one of his arms unfolding to wrap around him. To _reassure_ him. He wonders if Aerith was stalked. If she was so scared she didn’t want to tell him, that she had been just as tense and trembling as Cloud…

The thought… makes his throat a little dry.

“...Yeah. Every hunter’s got some kinda sob story. You don’t become a hunter because you _want_ to… It’s just… the urge to protect. Every victim could be someone’s parent, they’re someone’s child… Someone’s lover, maybe. Sibling, friend… None of those people should be taken away. None of them should be afraid.”

He shuts his eyes in an attempt to quell his emotion, but he feels Cloud’s head shift, and he 

wonders if the blond will roll back to the other side of the bed, to give him awkward space…

He feels something touching his throat, and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s _lips_ , damp and soft against his pulse as if trying to comfort him… And he exhales again, tilting his head slightly to silently encourage more.

Cloud’s scared. Maybe he just… wants a distraction. Wants someone to trust.

“...Cloud?”

\---------

His hand lifts to cup Zack’s cheek, angling his mouth carefully along that exposed throat. His hand slides down, deft fingers unbuttoning the protective collar, moving only to stroke sensitive skin.

He knows how to make it feel _good_. 

Sephiroth could only corrupt him enough to _need_ sex, but Cloud has never craved rape, the way his master does. Perhaps that Sephiroth has ingrained in him to _please_ , whether himself or others...or maybe it’s because Sephiroth has forbidden him from _pleasure…_

Whatever the reason…

But that voice sounds out, and he leans up, letting his lips brush over that ear. 

“...sorry,” he whispers, letting his hands tuck against his own chest in a practiced motion. He’s noticed men like _vulnerability_ , sexual _innocence_. How many had treated him as though they were deflowering a virgin?

Sephiroth himself takes wicked pleasure in it, from the _start_. Pinning Cloud to the bed by his wings and taking him, roughly, plucking his wings, dousing him in _sin_. 

_Nothing but a filthy incubus now. Just a little whore for demons and humans to fuck._

\---------

He makes a small noise of disagreement when Cloud apologies and pulls away, skin still _warm_ from where lips had touched or where those fingers had unbuttoned his shirt…

...Why is he okay with this?

He opens his eyes as he pulls Cloud back, fingers playing at the back of his neck. He has his theories, yes, but he's not entirely sure the _real_ reason Cloud had been so… bold?

“...’s okay,” he whispers, searching that face for answers. “You… probably want a distraction from everything, right?”

He had one man like that. Terrified and haunted by a succubus that still stalked him after raping him. He had wanted a human to reclaim him, to get rid of a monster's touch… And Zack had agreed, both out of charity and out of… well, selfish reasons. The man was… _very_ attractive.

“It's okay,” he reassures, turning to press a kiss to that shoulder. 

He… also _wants_ this…

\-------

Amid the placed _desire_ bred of hunger and need, there’s _disappointment_. He feels it somewhat bitterly, a hope that Zack might have the foresight to sense and incubus and better protect himself…

Always at war inside the fallen is his dual nature. A holy thing dipped in evil, evil desire leaking steadily from a pure soul…

So which is he? 

Fallen? A demon?

Or an angel?

He’s weak, if he’s a demon. And if he’s an angel, he’s _corrupted_. He isn’t sure which he detests more…

But it’s dark. He won’t be viewed in the depths of his wonderings. 

He’s not sure if he’s valued that Sephiroth forbids him pleasure, both from himself and from targets. Perhaps it made it easier to distance himself from the act…

Deft fingers find the way back to softly skirt about Zack’s collarbone, sliding down against the cloth and _further_. He slides down that midline, feeling the familiar anatomy of pectorals. Fingers unhook each button the further he goes, stroking down along that stomach. And then...slowly, another kiss, pressed now to the opposite side of his neck, below an ear…

His breath comes in faster huffs, a faint whimper in his throat. Perhaps it will make him sound desperate and _eager_ , when his soul somehow resents him for feeding on this one, more than ever before…

He has an odd instinct he’s never had with a target before, a knowledge of Zack’s body. He knows below those ears is a big spot, that Zack’s neck in general is. Unlike many men, he’d be more open to having his nipples sucked…

He wishes there was a way to do it without penetration, still _sore_ from Sephiroth’s most recent claim on his body. But he needs his hand and mouth free to slide the feather over the mark he’ll make on that throat…

\------------

There's a moment where he feels Cloud hesitate, and he lightly pets the soft, downing hair at the base of his neck in gentle conviction…

He knows the work of incubi and succubi. Relentlessly sensual, willing to take what they want regardless of consent. They're only in it for sex and blood…

And yet, Cloud just seems… _desperate._

“No rush,” he breathes, brushing against that wrist as his shirt is unbuttoned, as that warm hand trails on his skin… He picks up on the other’s breathing quickly, blindly reaching in the pitch dark to find a cheek to caress.

“...Lights on?”

But he loses the train of thought, the hand that had been reaching for the light falling to blond hair as his head tilts, a low _moan_ in his throat as Cloud finds that spot…

“Mmn,” he whimpers, his other hand sliding along Cloud's back, nudging his shirt up to pet the bare skin at his hip…

Cloud isn't an incubus. He's far too… _gentle_ for that. Besides, another demon is after him. He's never heard of demons turning on each other…

In fact, he's already forgotten he was even thinking about it.

\---------

“...no lights,” he whispers, grateful he finds a spot that makes Zack _writhe._ He parts that shirt, to edge down, to move things along. Pink lips wrap softly around Zack’s left nipple, bathing the bottom side with the rough of his tongue…

He makes a noise, a little nervous when Zack’s hands paw up near his hip, pulling the hand around to rest over his smooth chest…

Cloud shifts to Zack’s right nipple, working his way down to open that shirt up. He unbuckles Zack’s belt, then pulls his own shirt off… 

He’s not looking forward to the prep, but knows it has to be done…

“Lube?” he asks softly, letting his warm lips brush against Zack’s ear gently. “...it’ll make this go easier…”

He bows his head, nosing gently against his temple. He palms softly at Zack, other hand deftly reaching to grasp his feather and tuck it inside his pillowcase to make sure Zack won’t feel it…

He kisses against the hollow of that throat while he waits to be handed the lube, already trying to do his best to _relax_. He pulls his pants down, starting to finger himself in the dark.

He’s grateful for the darkness, grateful Zack won’t be able to see his expression of pure _agony_ as he starts the process. At least with targets he has a chance for this step - Sephiroth never gives him the chance before he’s roughly penetrated. 

_Impaled_ is a better word. 

\----------

He’s not going to argue against the choice to leave the lights out. Things feel _better_ that way, when he’s deprived of his sight, such a vital asset to a hunter. He can’t see Cloud’s touches, but he can feel them, he can feel the way Cloud _moves_ above him… And he likes it.

His chest _arches_ when that mouth finds a nipple, running his hands along the heat of Cloud’s skin

beneath his shirt… And when the blond makes to undress him, he moves to allow it, tossing both 

of their shirts somewhere in the dark of his room. His hips lift as his belt is removed, reaching to

unbutton and unzip his fly before he _moans_ , blindly pawing for the bedside table…

(He knocks the lamp and his phone off in his search, but he eventually finds it.)

“Here,” he gasps, breath hitching at the kisses to his throat, the sound of Cloud moving, the feel

of his knees spreading out against the mattress…

He searches for the hand that isn’t behind him, putting the lube inside. He doesn’t know if Cloud

is comfortable being prepped by him, but the blond does seem to have a better sense of the dark…

Prepping solo is better than prepping _blind_.

“You… really want this, don’t you?” he breathes, hands finding that chest again

to stroke at pectorals and abs.

\-----------

Cloud pops off the cap, bowing to hide the grimace and _sharpness_ of breath in a kiss into that neck. He nearly loses himself, a noise of _agony_ as he forces himself open wider. No amount of lube will stop the soreness…

“Y-yes…” he whimpers softly, kissing that neck to hide his pain. 

A hand gently reaches back behind him, to lubricate Zack’s length. Tears are already in his eyes with the pain, but he softly kisses the corner of that mouth.

The satisfaction of _sex_ will still work, pain or not.

“I want you inside me…”

He leans forward to rest his temple against Zack’s, trying to comfort himself for the pain.

And slowly, he moves to relax back down, letting Zack slide inside him.

\------------

He moans as he feels lube spread over himself, already hard for Cloud. He reaches to find that face, to press kisses along his jaw and return the kisses to his neck, but then--

Cloud moves slowly as he slides down, but it still takes him a bit by surprise. It’s been a _long_

time since he’s been inside of someone, and the feeling makes his toes curl for a moment.

He’s hot, he’s smooth, and he’s _perfectly_ wrapped around him.

“C-Cloud, gods,” he whimpers, reaching for those hips as he sits up, trying to give Cloud 

more leverage as his hands rub at that lower back. He shivers, hips slowly rolling to test

if Cloud has adjusted around him, as tight as he is…

“You feel amazing, _Cloud_ …”

\--------

Cloud knows _now_ is probably the best time to do it, when Zack is distracted with the sudden pleasure of being _inside_ another, but the pain is worse than he anticipates and it takes him a while to settle, especially after the gentle hip roll…

Slowly he convinces himself down, to thrust slightly, to help keep the illusion of consensual _pleasure_. 

He gently licks at Zack’s ear, nuzzling softly…

“...you feel so good,” he lies, his voice breaking off in _sobs_ that manage to pass as sounds of pleasure. He bows his head to brush lips against that pulse, closing his eyes as he lets his lips work…

One deft hand reaches for the feather, preparing to bite first and dip the feather. And then...he’ll let himself eat, after nearly 4 days of starvation…

Sharpened fangs prick that pulse, and he nearly succumbs to drinking his fill right there. But he carefully slides the feather against the freshly made mark, smelling blood soak his feather. He can see it, his vision far sharper than humans… 

He starts to thrust, lapping gently as he draws in his meal.

\-----------

His hands move back to those hips as he starts to move, to _thrust_ , his hips gently rolling to meet each one, once he catches onto the rhythm. The praise makes him _moan_ , the little whimper of pleasure making his hands give those hips a soft squeeze of encouragement.

He feels that mouth back at his throat and tilts his head to allow it, a hand lifting to thread in blond

spikes to encourage him to _stay_ there…

He feels the pressure of a bite, yet it’s nothing but _arousing_ , and his toes curl as he fists that hair just for something to keep him grounded. His breathing gets harder, his head light and fuzzy with the heat and _pleasure_ that’s steadily working him to orgasm. He can _hear_ that tongue licking wetly at his skin, the steady sound of their bodies sliding together, and he puts his forehead to that shoulder.

“C-Cloud, gods, y-you’re too good, I’m gonna--” He clenches his teeth, hips

giving a rather erratic, desperate thrust. “I’m _close_ \--”

\----------

It _hurts_ , though Sephiroth’s cruelty was always _worse_. He can hear Zack in rapture, and for the first time his soul lifts to feel that. He _likes_ causing this man pleasure, even if it’s at cost of himself…

He’s careful not to take too much blood, softly licking and sealing the injury shut. His saliva seals it instantly, and tears stream down his cheeks as he sits up, reaching for Zack’s hands to hold them to his chest.

“M-more, _please--”_

He sits up to thrust, to let Zack angle into him.

He’s _sobbing_ , but it sounds erotic enough that he hopes Zack can’t tell the difference.

“P-please, I’m cumming--!”

Well practiced. Sephiroth taught him. Taught him how to be a _slut_. 

He flexes his muscles despite the pain, his fingers lacing with Zack’s as he pretends to ride out _pleasure_. The blood eases the pain significantly, probably healing the soreness that Sephiroth left….

And he waits, waits for Zack to fill him.

\---------

He follows Cloud’s quickening thrusts eagerly, those sobs of pleasure getting choked echoes from Zack. And he _angles_ , he tries to push Cloud over the edge, and when he feels those muscles _tighten_ \--

He squeezes Clouds fingers so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t break them as he cums,

thrusting deep as he releases inside of the blond. He rides it out with unmatched, wild

bucks of his hips before it passes and leaves him thoroughly winded, wrapping arms

around Cloud’s shoulders as he bonelessly flops against the mattress again, gasping.

“Cloud… _fuck_ ,” he wheezes, laughing shortly as he presses a kiss to a damp face. 

“H-hey, are you really crying?”

He’s immediately panicked that he’s done something wrong-- They didn’t use a condom, he was thrusting pretty hard--

His hands move to caress that back, to soothe, but his fingers _freeze_.

Two spots of soft, downy feathers. One on each shoulderblade.

...And he smells blood.

He immediately reaches for the lightswitch, flooding the room back in light as he fumbles for the knife under his pillow, feeling lethargic and _drained_ \--

\----------

He _was_ happy. Even if it hurt, even if _ached_ and he was left sore, he had done as he was told, and somehow Zack’s orgasm made him feel slightly less _filthy_ …

He angles his head to offer his cheek, but Zack tastes the _tears_. 

His body turns stiff, and he starts to pull back, but those hands rest against his shoulders, feeling the spots of down that he can’t _hide_ ….

He chokes out a gasp, reaching quickly for his feather and pulling his pants back up, backing away as quickly as he can. He senses the silver, skittering back. 

“I-I’m sorry--”

\---------

How could he have _fallen_ for that?

He manages to grab the knife as Cloud skitters to the door, swinging his legs so his feet are on the

floor. But he doesn’t… _want_ to attack him. Those tears are real, that _fear_ …

He notices two spots of blood on the sheets.

One from himself.

And one from Cloud.

“...Cloud,” he says evenly, though it’s a bit… _confused_. His ward had allowed him to come into

his bedroom. His stones had only _truly_ glowed in response to that black feather. Cloud had drank

_apple juice_ , and the repulsion necklace hadn’t done a thing to him…

He stands slowly, though his hands are up. He still holds the knife, just in case…

“...You’re not a demon… I have wards, charms… What _are_ you?”

\----------

In his fright, Cloud’s eyes are fully slitted, his wings summoned in fear and defense. Beautiful white wings beat slightly, fearful as the primaries spread…

Wide eyes watch that hand still holding the knife…

_What are you?_

Cloud chokes, biting his lip as he gazes up into that face. 

_What are you!?_

_...a whore. Tainted. Fallen. An incubus...unpure and unholy._

His head bows.

“....a-an...a-an incubus,” he answers softly. “P-please, I didn’t want to hurt you, I was desperate…”

\----------

White wings. _Feathered_. And yet, those eyes are still slitted, catlike and bright…

Demons have wings of black. Either feathered or… distorted _skin_ , like a bat.

He swallows tightly at the answer he gets, jaw clenching. It was such a _simple_ lie, and he fell for it. He fell for the _seduction_ that radiates from incubi to create false securities. Perhaps he’s just _powerful_ enough to withstand Zack’s defenses, and even now…

Even _now_ , he’s playing victim.

But he finds it increasingly difficult not to feel _sorry_.

“...If you were desperate, you could have just raped me,” he says lowly,

lowering his arms and taking a step forward, head still light and dizzied.

“...So why didn’t you?”

His fingers clench around that knife.

He can’t let Cloud get away…

\-----------

Blue eyes widen when he watches Zack’s hand tighten about that blade. This is a _hunter_ , a man prided on slaying demons…

He backs up, eyes _wider_ as he plasters himself to that door.

He swallows. There would be no love in his heart for a _demon_. And Cloud knows that. 

“...n-not strong enough,” he whispers, “...and...I...I didn’t…”

He trails off, still seeing that blade…

“...I didn’t want...to make you...suffer…”

\---------

Cloud is a _remarkable_ actor.

He must have planned this out from the beginning. Found one of the One-Winged Angel’s feathers

and played victim to get into a confined space, like a _bed_. Seduce him with virginal _nerves_ , distract

him with pleasure so he doesn’t feel a _bite_ …

And it makes him a little sick to know that Cloud would have gotten away with it, if he hadn’t felt those wings…

He takes another step. Unsteady. He’s so _tired_ …

“I dunno why I keep asking. You’re just lying…”

Aerith had a big heart. Had her mistake been to _pity_ an act put on by the damned? To trust

for a moment too long, to turn her back for a second too slow…

“...I can’t just let you go. Stop… Stop trying to _convince_ me. You’re all the same--  You just _hurt_

and you _take_. I can’t let you go do this to someone else.”

\------

The words slice deeply. 

Tears stream down his cheeks, and he trembles. How quickly he’s turned on, but...isn’t this what he deserves?

He wraps an arm around his torso, drowning in his own tears. 

_No….no, please…_

But there’s no sense in _staying_. 

He won’t be convinced, and Sephiroth expected him back a day ago…

“...I’m sorry. Please believe me, I’m sorry, please forgive me--”

And then he moves, quickly, taking hold of the door knob and _running_. He fumbles at the deadlocks, glancing over his shoulder.

\----------

The tears _hurt_ , but the bitter part of him reminds him that demons, no matter how strong or how white their wings, are _liars_.

So when Cloud fumbles with an apology before he runs, Zack attempts to give chase. The bite, combined with his orgasm, has left him _drained,_ and he stumbles over his own feet as he tries to get to Cloud before he gets out.

“I can't let you hurt someone else,” he says, ragged breaths disrupting the words.

Though… Perhaps the worst thing about all of this is that he had fallen into Cloud's trap so _easily_ …

“Stop!”

\-----------

He might have stayed, yet there’s a thread of _necessity_ that makes him run. It’s not that he fears Sephiroth, but he fears that Sephiroth might be pressed to _turn_ on Zack if he’s not successful. He manages to get the deadbolt and chain loose, opening the door.

One wing spreads as his balance shifts, doing his best to stay on his feet despite the pain of his lower half, the pain Zack caused, but Cloud can’t blame him for.

He has to get out. He has to get out before he’s _slaughtered_...before _Zack_ is slaughtered. Would he tear off his wings, from his still bleeding body, if he was caught…?

He’s never seen such a harsh reaction, especially to pleasure. He can imagine a rape victim being like this, but Zack had invited him willingly to his bed, even after Cloud had offered to stay on the couch…

\--------

Perhaps he's more angry at _himself._ He had ignored the red flags, welcomed Cloud to his bed… He had allowed his advances, and why? He had enjoyed it, but _why?_

...he was selfish. Lonely. _Desperate_.

But Cloud runs, and he's no match for a demon's speed. He manages to hobble out into the hall to throw his knife, aim a bit off but enough to at least _scratch_ …

That black feather… Had it meant that Cloud was in league with _him_? If so… He needs to pursue him. He needs to kill him…

But he's so _tired_ , and he slumps against the doorframe, still nude and bloody, with a hand over his face.

            _Stupid…_


	3. Chapter 3

The blade catches his wing, cutting feathers free and scraping against the skin. Cloud _cries_ out, the pain of silver that much more agonizing, but it doesn’t slow him. 

He takes flight from the top of the stairs. 

The journey is short by air, and he presents the feather to the seal keeping him from re-entering his master’s home. He walks in, limping and weak, knowing that near dawn his master will be enjoying a glass of blood by the fire, to prepare for bed…

“...sir,” he whispers softly, knowing he must look a _wreck_ , holding the feather in both hands reverently until he’s invited to step _closer_.

\----------

He had watched Cloud until he had _finally_ made belated contact with the hunter, knowing that his little _fledgling_ would either end up dead or, somehow, he would succeed…

He knows he's succeeded as he senses another presence in his home. He's sitting by the fire, a half-drained glass of warm, _fresh_ blood pinched between gloved fingers, the neatly carved corpse of the source pushed onto a table at the back of the room.

He doesn't look to Cloud when he speaks.

“You drank from him?” he asks, almost _lazily_. He swirls the thick blood in his glass, his other hand pointing to the floor before his feet.

“Sit.”

\---------

Cloud comes as he’s bid, slowly kneeling down on the ground before his master. He sets the feather, white but stained a rich red at the tip, in his master’s lap.

He’s exhausted. His wing aches from silver, and his lower half hurts from the rough sex. Tears still stream down his cheeks, seeing the raw wrath, that _fury_ and betrayal in those eyes…

“...yes Master,” he replies softly, slowly daring to press his brow to Sephiroth’s knee.

He’s _exhausted_. Between the nights without shelter, and now _this_ , he feels his energy drained into nothing. The corpse on the table leaves him unnerved, his mind rebelling against the senseless death of human flesh…

“...I...I left the feather. And...I seduced him in his bed, Sir…”

_Just let me rest…_

\----------

He picks up the feather to inspect it before he tucks it behind that ear, gloved digits running through blond hair in a gesture that is _almost_ gentle…

“Very good, though you haven't finished yet.”

His fingers tighten, turning that head to look up at him.

“You will lie in my bed to rest, and tomorrow night, you will bring me Zack Fair's head.”

He's such a _prominent_ hunter. To eliminate him would be to land a devastating blow to hunters in the entire city and beyond. One step closer to getting the _humans_ to bow to him. And if Cloud fails? Well. He's certain he can take on the task.

“Strip and get to bed. Wash yourself, too. You reek of _human_.”

\---------------

He just wants to _sleep_ , half dead against that leg already. The silver is beginning to make him ill, his head buzzing with pain…

He knows his master will reclaim him - after each session, he’s always laid out on that silk bed to be _refucked_ before taking his place on the floor beneath his master’s bed. So he drags out a soft breath. The faster that can happen -

But his blood runs _cold_ when Sephiroth mentions bringing him Zack’s _head_.

_N-no...no, please no…_

All orders until this point he’s followed with only self hesitation, but this one makes him _ill_. He struggles to breathe…

He stumbles when he’s told to get up, to wash, to prepare for bed.

_N-no...no no no, please…._

He wouldn’t dare say a word. But he knows that to kill Zack...he won’t be able to do it.

\------------

He sees the hesitation there. The _fear…_ And he punishes accordingly.

~

The next night sees Zack heading back his apartment, arms laden with fabric bags from the hardware store and the witchery shops. He needs to remake the ward in his bedroom, to invest in stronger charms…

Selling that black feather to a young witch had given him enough money to buy nearly her entire enchantment department.

He's still… unnerved. He's replayed the night before over and over in his mind, and he only holds anger for himself. That he would invite a stranger to bed, after he had agreed to take the couch. To allow such _advances_ without question or refusal…

He sets his bags down in front of his door as he rummages for his keys, finding them in his pocket and shoving them in the lock. And he just… Stands for a moment, almost _nervous_ to enter his own home…

But he steps inside regardless, placing his purchases on the floor in front of the couch. He grabs the small burning knife he bought to burn a new ward to his bedroom, opening it--

      He nearly drops the knife at what awaits him.

\------------

He knows where Zack is, and it’s easy to return to. Regardless of Sephiroth’s orders...he’s not going to bring any harm to him. He can’t...he _won’t_ …

He knows it’s dangerous, that Zack will have his _wings_ , will cut off his head. But he’s earned the eye of the _Angel_ , and the only thing Cloud can do now is _warn_.

The house is easy to break into, angels are made to slip past doors, to attend to charges without being spotted. 

Though...he’s never been able to do it _before…_

Yet here he remains, sitting on Zack’s bed, hearing him return. He wrings his hands, closing his eyes as he waits…

The door opens.

“....Z-zack…”

His wings hang over him, looking worse for wear. Sephiroth is _brutal_ ….

“...Z-zack, you...you have to _run_. Please…”

\-------------

Whatever he was expecting Cloud to say, it wasn't _that._

The hand that had been moving to a concealed knife pauses at his warning, brows furrowed. Cloud looks _awful_ , wings ruffled and hair knotted in mats. He looks… haunted.

“...Why?” he asks slowly, watching the demon carefully. He's not going to be naïve this time. He knows what he's dealing with, and if Cloud is trying to get him to run into another trap…

“Run from what?”

\-----------

He bows his head, arms wrapping around himself. 

“My master...wants you dead.”

Tears spring into his eyes, and he wouldn’t dare reach for Zack, yet his eyes stay on Zack’s. Guileless. Innocent…

“...I was ordered to feed from you last night,” he whispers, the tips of his wings trembling in fear. “...I...I think he wanted me dead...to send someone like me after you…”

But he had succeeded. And any chance Sephiroth can use another to do his dirty work…

“...I never wanted to hurt you...a-and...I don’t want you to die. Please….go…”

\----------

His _master_?

He thinks back to that feather, that description of _him_. He knows of tiers within demonic society,  that power and strength determines their effect on others. But if a master wanted to kill one of  his underlings, why let a hunter do it? Why order an underling to kill someone that they know  they will not be able to defeat?

He can’t trust this warning.

For all he knows, that One-Winged Angel is waiting for him just outside.

“...I can’t trust you,” he says simply.

He _wants_ to. Something subconscious is telling him that he can trust Cloud, that he would never do anything to harm… And that voice reminds him of the blood stains he had to clean from his linens, of the pained _limp_ Cloud had run away with.

Demons can’t _fake_ bleed.

He closes the door behind himself and locks it, leaving them both in the confines of his bedroom.

“After last night, how… how do I know you’re not just a good liar?”

He holds the silver knife in one hand, eyes never leaving Cloud’s shaking form as he crosses to his closet, blindly opening it and knocking down a large cardboard box from the top shelf. It topples onto its side on the floor, spilling free thick ropes and silver-infused chains.

“I can’t let you get away again.”

\----------

Unlike last night...Cloud doesn’t move, when presented with a blade, when told he can’t be trusted...and when told he can’t _leave_.

There is time. There is still time. 

To kill a hunter would require a great deal of subtlety for a young, inexperienced incubus, and he doubts Sephiroth expects it immediately. 

The box startles him, head lifting sharply at the presence of silver.

It only makes him cry, wings trembling harder…

He doesn’t speak, more trying to _think_ of what he could possibly say to make the man before him believe him…

“...you...you don’t look...injured,” he whispers softly. The mark on Zack’s neck is nearly gone, he can smell nothing but a small bruise, like a hickey…

“....m-my understand of...most incubi is that...when they have their victims vulnerable...they don’t care anymore. N’...many _enjoy_...inflicting _pain_.”

Cloud reaches slowly for his collar.

\-----------

Those words…

He has a point.

He had felt lethargic, almost _sickly_ last night, both from his own anger and being drained  of some of his blood. But the mark on his neck is gone, and today… he feels better. Not  quite back to normal, but… close enough.

He bites his lip.

_He’s lying. He has to be…_

He says nothing as he picks up ropes, foregoing the silver as a small mercy. But the leather

collar Cloud reaches for is embedded with a much _stronger_ ward, one to _restrain_. To weaken.

He crosses over to the bed, eyes wide with suspicion, though hands quick. He’s only had to do this to a couple demons before, ones he needed information from or used as bait for their more powerful masters. He handles Cloud roughly, though every touch seems to _hesitate_ , as if he doesn’t really enjoy it, but much rather _dislikes_ it…

Cloud isn’t trying to hurt him or fight against him…

_But he might. Look what happened to Aerith when she trusted one._

He ties Cloud’s arms and wrists tight behind his back, wings trapped in the same bond. And he ties his ankles to ensure he can’t kick or _run_ , finally grabbing a silver chain to hook to the collar and connect to the frame of his bed.

The whole time, he’s _frowning_.

\-----------

Cloud’s eyes slip shut, a faint sob when he’s roughly handled. Periodically he yelps out, Sephiroth’s wounds from last night still _raw_...but he doesn’t fight.

After one bad spot on his shoulder, he bows his head to Zack’s arm, trying to _rest_. His breath heaves unevenly as he tries to comfort himself. 

But...he doesn’t fight. In fact...he folds his wings back to make it _easier_.  Though, when Zack grabs the left, he lets out another cry, the infected point of silver still so _raw_ and sensitive…

He tries to keep his head to that arm until it moves away, watching his ankles be bound similarly…

Blue eyes watch the silver chain hook on before he finally just...lays down. Blue eyes flutter shut as he sniffs softly at Zack’s side of the bed.

“...please don’t...kill me…”

He’s not sure why he begs for _this_ , but something tells him it will be _bad_ for Zack if he does.

\---------

He steps back when he’s finished, watching the way Cloud just… _lays_ , eyes shut and damp and _sad_ … And it tugs at his heart, another part of his mind whispering that this is _cruel_ …

“...I won’t,” he murmurs, and while he doesn’t know _why_ , he knows the words are honest.

He steps away to finish his work on his newly warded door, placing his new charms with their partners in his bureau. He makes himself a late dinner, attempting to go about _routine_ … And yet he keeps finding his eyes wandering to his bedroom, keeps finding himself pacing past that door to look inside…

He doesn’t come back into the room until he finishes his shower, quietly changing into pajamas  with his back to Cloud to keep himself from  _looking_ … But after he changes and finds himself to  have run out of mundane tasks to keep himself busy, he turns and sits on the bed, looking down  quietly at the sad, _broken_ sight before him…

“...You can drop the act, you know.”

\----------

He’s not able to sleep, not with his limbs bound so tightly. Cloud watches Zack leave, smells food…

Blue eyes open again when Zack finishes his shower, lifting to watch quietly before he goes back to gazing, unseeing, at a spot on the wall. 

He hears Zack sit near him, giving nothing but a slight _wing_ beat of recognition.

“...why would I act…?” he asks softly, curving away from the man behind him…

The ropes shift when he curls, one pressing painfully into deep bruises caused by Sephiroth just a few _hours_ ago.

He thrashes slightly, bound wings beating until it shifts off, the panic of being _bound_ doing much to keep any spirit of peace away from the fallen.

“...could I...have some juice?”

\-----------

He watches the way he _thrashes_ briefly, panic when the ropes shift against a bruise. But other than that, Cloud has been _still_ …

The question, that soft request, takes him a bit off guard.

And yet he finds himself standing to walk to the kitchen, pouring a glass of apple juice for him just as he had last night. He returns to sit on the bed, reaching to disconnect the chain from the collar to coax him to sit.

“I don’t have straws, so just… sit up. I’ll help you drink.”

A small mercy.

But first… He reaches to the ropes around his wings, gently unbinding them.

\----------

Cloud sits up as he’s drawn up, and being _near_ Zack is warm, and does something to him…

He’s warm, and he begins to _soothe_ at being close. So when he feels fingers against his wings, he smiles, choking back a faint noise. Both wings open as the ropes slip loose, extending out and one _stretches_ around Zack’s shoulder as Cloud’s head comes back to rest against that arm. 

He sips what he’s offered, gingerly brushing the top of his wing against Zack’s back as if to _thank_. 

“...thank you,” he whispers gently, when the glass is empty. “...but...you need to go. You won’t...be safe, here…”

He nuzzles that arm, trying to _encourage_.

\------------

He carefully tips the glass so Cloud can drink, though he flinches a bit when that wing wraps around him… But the feathers are soft, the motion almost _grateful_ , and the weight of his head… He doesn’t pull away from it.

“Why?” he asks softly, the gentle nuzzle making him _want_ to stay. If Cloud has been sent to kill

him… Then will his master come to complete the job if Cloud fails?

...But if his master is the silver-haired one he knows of…

He will not leave his apartment.

“Does he want you to kill me because I’m so… well-known?”

\-----------

When Zack flinches, his wing folds back gingerly, tucking away from Zack’s body in an attempt to _soothe_ , trying to prove he won’t touch this man against his will.

...but why is it, that _Zack_ is the one he’s been sent to slaughter….?

Every time Sephiroth gave him orders...it was something to damage his soul further. Destruction of purity, Sephiroth’s favorite task…

He was nothing but a young guardian, passing through the tests, the learning. He had mastered most of his techniques, he was to be granted an assignment within the week when the second war broke out. 

And the voice had been gentle and convincing, whispering what he knows _now_ were lies. Lies about the hierarchy of angels, lies about the treatment. And because he implicitly _trusted_ this archangel...Cloud was cast down with him. 

_...is it...that you were my charge? Already assigned, just...waiting for formalities?_

It would explain why the bite was so difficult, and why, of all people he’s been told to sleep with, Zack has been the hardest. 

“...m-maybe,” he answers, though he’s not sure anymore. There hasn’t been much that’s ever tried Sephiroth’s patience before, certainly not hunters. There was more enjoyment to _torturing_ hunters than slaughtering them…

“...y-you asked me...what I was, last night,” he whispers, pulling away from Zack to bow his head. “...and...it’s...hard for me to answer…”

Those wings tuck around himself like a blanket, giving Cloud a small _frightened_ expression.

“...I...I was an angel…I was...training to be a guardian...but...I fell.”

\-------------

He doesn’t understand why Cloud is so… _gentle_. Demons are sadistic, selfish, vicious… And yet Cloud is _careful_ , even going so far as to move his wing when Zack startles…

But at that answer… He frowns.

The only fallen angel he’s ever heard of is the one with one wing. Worse than a demon, corrupted and _rotten_. One with both angelic powers and those of demons, making them a doubled threat…

Cloud’s wings are _white_.

“...You haven’t been completely… _damned_ ,” he murmurs, setting the juice aside.

“You… still have the purity and humanity of an angel, but… As a demon, as an

incubus, you have to take things like blood and sex… And if _he_ is your master,

then… Is he trying to corrupt you?”

He’s never… heard of it before. He has to admit that his own research and practices focus only

on complete demons, as fallen angels are still a small mystery to demonologists… But he can

assume Cloud is telling the truth. The way he feels _safe_ around the blond, the way he wants to

so _hard_ believe that he’s not a demon that wants to hurt…

“...Guess that would make sense.”

\------------

Cloud looks away.

He might as well be.

“...there is nothing pure about me,” he mourns softly, his head bowing. “...he’s already succeeded in making my soul as black as demons’...”

Tears stream anew down his cheeks, wings plastering over his back as though he wants to make himself _smaller_. 

“...I-I was young. Foolish. He convinced me to his order, before the war. And as testament, I was cast down with him.”

From heaven, where he could hear the constant conversations, the things no one would hide from each other. His mind was filled with the gentle conversations and friendships of the others, from high Seraphim to humble guardians like himself. 

And then...cast to earth, where all he can hear are the dark groanings and chuckles of the _damned_...when not blocked by his own _screams_. 

“...he’s already succeeded,” he whispers, “...I _am_ corrupted.”

\-----------

He listens, frowning slightly. He reaches back to loosen the ropes on his wrists, to give him a small freedom to _trust_ … The pain and shame is so _real_ on that face that he can’t believe anymore that this is some kind of _lie_. And he feels a profound _sadness_ for him, fingers gently brushing the spot between his wings.

“...Your feathers are white. They… They haven’t been burnt black like his. And you have _both_

of them, still. You’re not… corrupt. If you were, you would have just raped and drank from me

last night. Maybe tried to kill me. But you didn’t. You… _apologized_ , even.”

He frowns, allowing his fingers to gently brush at soft down, to stroke at the base of those wings…

“...Something in my gut, just… tells me I can trust you. My instincts disagree, but…

You’ve done little to hurt me…”

\-------------

When his wrists are unbound, he pulls them slowly to his face, to bury his head in his hands and wipe away his stinging tears.

He has a mark on his inner wrist, a tiny brand that developed just a few days before the war broke out. He never noticed it, save for the day it appeared, excitedly chittering to his superiors that he _finally_ had the mark, that he was going to have a charge to protect soon…

Carefully...he reaches for Zack’s left wrist, to turn it over, feeling his feathers and hair stand on end when he sees the matching mark there…

Cloud hiccups back a sob, putting Zack’s wrist down and turning away. 

“...I...I understand now,” he whispers, amid the tears. 

Zack was his charge. The bond was made, damned or not. Until angel or human dies, the bond is _sealed_. 

\-----------

He notices the small mark on Cloud’s inner wrist, eyebrows raising as it matches his, and allowing Cloud to discover this for himself....

“...What?” he asks quietly, the hair on the back of his neck raising a bit, letting his arm settle 

on his leg, the small tattoo exposed… 

He doesn’t remember ever getting it, nor what it stands for. He blew it off as a drunken venture with friends, or perhaps a memory too painful that he had repressed. It’s been there for years, and he remembers that it had appeared there the year before Aerith was murdered…

He wonders if it’s a Davy Jones-esque _black spot_ \-- That he’s been marked as being a specific 

target for this specific fallen angel. Though, he doesn’t remember _Aerith_ having one, though it’s

so small, she could have been hiding it under bracelets…

“...Why do they match?”

\-----------

Cloud turns back, when Zack asks, and he can’t help but drag his finger along the much darker skin. Zack has scars from his work, from being bound or from binding his wrists so demon’s can’t pierce them…

He traces the mark, his touch feather light.

“...guardian assignments would...be hard, if there wasn’t...a way to bind angel to human,” he whispers softly. “...young…y-young guardians are given the mark to be able to find their human, making the travel between heaven and earth _fast_ , especially for emergencies…”

Tears spill down his cheeks.

“...I...I was so excited, to get my mark,” he whispers, “...guardian work isn’t the most prestigious, I don’t attend the temples or play music for my superiors. But… to guard worthy humans...to offer them comfort when they seem alone, to protect them from evil...and...if I were lucky...to let my charge glimpse me...to know he wasn’t alone…”

He trails off, looking away.

“...Sephiroth...must have...wanted me to kill you because it would...have finally shattered my soul…”

\----------

He listens closely, watching that pale finger trace the mark. It… makes sense. During his grieving after Aerith’s death, he had felt… oddly comforted, some nights. Had that been Cloud…?

And the way he lets his guard down so _willingly_ …

“His name’s Sephiroth?” he whispers, moving his hand to gently hold Cloud’s. “You still… have good intentions. You still want to protect, so… so maybe that’s why you’re not corrupted so easily.”

He smiles, though a bit lamely. 

“...I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says softly, lifting that hand to kiss at knuckles.

He moves to start untying those ankles, touches light and careful not to 

aggravate the bruises already there…

\----------

Cloud nods softly, fingers brushing against Zack’s cheek.

“...Sephiroth, Seraphim of the 2nd Ark…”

He can’t stop himself now, leaning down to softly brush his fingers into that hair, to touch and to _embrace_. 

“...it wasn’t your fault,” he whispers, leaning down to rest his head on the crown of Zack’s head. His wings spread, leaning over Zack’s head as though _hiding_ him. 

But his ankles aren’t even _freed_ before Cloud suddenly pushes Zack. The overwhelming _sense_ of danger and _evil_ stains his senses now that he recognizes his role of guardian.

“Z-zack!” he cries, “He’s coming, please, you have to _run--”_

But it’s too late. The wards are nothing for Sephiroth, tearing the front door off the _hinges._ The bedroom door _splinters_ beneath one strong strike.

Cloud is thrown by one strong telekinetic strike, slamming to the wall like a _doll_. 

“Useless _traitor,_ ” he hisses dismissively, turning his gaze down to Zack.


	4. Chapter 4

Zack looks up into that gentle touch, the way those wings spread to envelop him with warmth and a surge of _safety_ …

But his eyes widen in alarm as he’s pushed down, the warning ringing in his ears as the charm  around his neck begins to glow  _brilliantly_ , and he only has a moment to grab for the pistol when  he hears the doors be  _broken_ .

He makes a frantic noise as Cloud is _thrown_ by an invisible force, and he turns to see those bright, slitted eyes turn to _him_.

He sees _red_.

He fires the gun until the sparse ammo runs out, making a dash to get into the living room f or his larger, stronger sword. The wards have done _nothing_ to even phase this _thing_ , and he  fears that the silver his blade shines with will not be enough.

Sephiroth has already taken Aerith from him.

He won’t let him take _Cloud_ , too.

\----------

The bullets do nothing but _barely_ sting, and his frustration with this _rebellion_ of Cloud’s is making him a bit... _indulgent_.

He lets Zack get all the way to his blade before he lifts him up by his throat, with his mind alone, watching the pathetic human struggle for _air_. Why design a creature with such obvious weakness…?

He steps over, slowly fitting his gloved hand over that throat, to squeeze down as he gazes into those eyes…

_Ah._ _You._

“...I remember you,” he simpers, his other hand lifting to stroke against Zack’s jaw. “...the boy who pledged revenge after I took that girl away from you…”

Amusement. Nothing but _amusement_ , to watch the blood drain from her, to spill on the ground, to splatter against a heartbroken boy’s face…

“...tell me, little _mortal_...what did you plan to do to me?”

\------------

He keeps the grip of one hand on his blade as _something_ wraps around his throat, his other hand clawing desperately at it, to _breathe_. And when that leather hand closes around in _place_ of the invisible force, he gags, kicking out as he tries to heft his blade one-handed against him--

Any amount of _rationality_ he held is immediately wiped away by the sick confession.

He _spits_ in that face.

“K-Kill you,” he snarls, letting go of that powerful wrist to grab his weapon, letting out a choked

sound of _fury_ with his rapidly depleting air as he strikes at his waist.

His eyesight is already turning black around the edges… He cannot _fail_ here…

\------------

Sephiroth easily catches the blade, releasing Zack’s throat to keep him pinned aloft with his mind _alone._ He wrenches the blade from that hand, snapping his left wrist in the process…

“Oh?” he asks with a _laugh,_ sliding a hand down down Zack’s torso to take a hidden knife out. Silver has no effect on Sephiroth, something he enjoys as he draws the flat of it over Zack’s jaw…

He changes the blade, transmuting it from silver into something _dark_ and _black_ and _wicked_ , letting it burn along Zack’s flesh… 

“...I remember her,” he croons, “...I remember bathing her flowers in her blood. Do you miss her? I don’t see any pictures of her…”

He cuts into Zack’s jaw.

“...if only you had listened to your voicemail _sooner_ ,” he whispers into that ear. “...maybe you would have come in time.”

\-------------

He cries out when he feels his left wrist _snap_ , thrashing even harder against the invisible hold, trying to gain traction on _something_ \--

He tries to push that searching hand away, gripping weakly with his unbroken hand to try to make  him  _stop_ \--

His breaths _rattle_ as he fights for each one, fighting against his consciousness to  _stay awake_ . Even as that blade transforms, he continues to fight, gritting his teeth  around another  _scream_ as the smell and pain of his own burning flesh processes…

Perhaps… a scar to match the other side.

“Shut up!” he spits, his strength so _weak_ in comparison to Sephiroth’s as he tries  to push that blade away. “Shut  _up!_ Y-you don’t deserve to  _talk_ about her!”

The pictures are gone, it’s true, though they’re in a small box in his private safe. Hidden, in a vain  attempt to stop looking at her face, to stop getting tears on polaroids… But sometimes, he  _has_ to look at them. He’s nearly forgotten what her voice sounded like off of her voicemail, and he can’t  bear to ever forget her  _face_ …

This is the man that killed her. The _demon_.

He can’t die by the same hands.

\-----------

Sephiroth _slams_ Zack to the ground, that sole black wing jutting slightly as he _laughs_. 

“You’re the one that let her _die_ ,” he purrs, kicking hard into that torso before he draws his own katana, letting it caress against Zack’s jaw before he thrusts it down, impaling Zack’s shoulder to the ground. “...I gave you plenty of time to _come_ …”

He kneels down, dipping his fingers in the blood flowing freely from Zack’s shoulder. Bringing those fingers to his lips, he licks them…

“...what would she think of you now? Raping angels…”

Sephiroth _smiles_ , the expression demonic. _Pleased_. 

“...you don’t think he actually wanted to be taken, did you?”

\------------

He hits the ground with a choked _cry_ , the air he had so desperately wanted nearly _knocked out_ of him. He tries to scramble for his blade, for his _feet_ , but the kick knocks him back down, and he cries out as he feels ribs _break_.

“Sh-Shut up!” he wheezes, _screaming_ as that blade cuts through flesh and bone, pinning 

him to his own floor--

Maybe, if he makes enough noise, a neighbor or _someone_ will come…

He hisses as he watches in _horror_ that Sephiroth licks that blood, grinning madly. His mind darts  back to Cloud, and his fury reignites itself-- To have seen Cloud  _thrown_ , weak as a doll with broken  joints… Is he even  _alive_ , after that?

“W-why do you wanna kill me in the first place, you sick _bastard_?”

\------------

Sephiroth takes a grip of that hair, sinking his fangs into that throat as he wrenches that head back. He pulls a sip, slow and _agonizing_ …

“...you didn’t even know, did you?” he purrs, “...were you so lonely to invite him to your bed? His seduction is nowhere _near_ powerful enough to work on someone that isn’t already _desperate_ for company…”

He turns Zack’s head sharply.

“...did you even feel him bite?”

He thumbs the mark, still fresh, so gently placed that even _Sephiroth’s_ fingers are able to send sparks of warmth and pleasure through it…

\-----------

He clenches his teeth to stop the noises of _pain_ as Sephiroth drinks from him, his body spasming in agony. His hand claws helplessly for that silver hair, yanking and trying to get him _off_ \--

The words cut deep. 

Cloud had _bled_. His sobs of pleasure had been from pain, but he had been so desperate  and lonely that he hadn’t asked questions. And that bite had been so well hidden within  the throes of pleasure that he didn’t even  _notice_ until the lights were on.

His noises of pain are cut short when he feels that mark touched, a _moan_ fighting out of his mouth despite the circumstances. It’s _warm_ , sending brief waves of pleasure down his spine…

“D-Don’t _toy_ with me--”

\----------

He starts to wake, something in his _soul_ commanding he stand up. He’s still a bit weak from the throw, but he hears _screams_ , hears his master’s _wicked_ voice. 

“...he gave you such a _gentle_ bite, for a rapist,” he hears that voice, urgency shredding the ropes still binding his ankles. “...even I never had much success teaching him to enjoy pain. He wanted it to feel good for you…”

He hears the sound of _drinking_ , his hand lifting to his own jugular in powerful bonded _empathy_.

“...probably couldn’t help it. He _was_ your guardian.”

Sephiroth laughs, staring into those eyes.

“...you raped your own heaven sent guardian.”

\------------

His body is _weak_ , and he gives up fighting. He’s lost, he doesn’t stand a _chance_ … And tears clump his lashes as he _whimpers_ to feel that mouth drawing more blood from him.

_I couldn’t… I couldn’t even avenge you…_

His eyes shut tightly at the words, body going limp. _Submissive_. If he’s to die here… He hopes it will be _quick_.

“You had… no _right_ … to damn him,” he whispers, fighting against the urge to just… fall asleep. “You had no right to  _kill_ … anyone…”

His hand weakly curls into a fist, tears slipping free.

“Especially not _her_ …”

\------------

The protectiveness burns so brightly in Cloud’s chest, and by the time he leaves Zack’s bedroom, he’s no longer on the _ground_. 

White wings glow bright, and though he does nothing to control them, his eyes are _crystal_ blue. Holy magic _streams_ from him, pulsing and making Sephiroth _flinch_ , breaking off his bite to look back. 

He only has a moment before Cloud is _on_ him. 

Like a stream of pure _light_ , he moves, tearing at the wing, tearing at Sephiroth’s _throat_. He screams his fury at what has become of Zack, smelling his blood and _fighting_ …

Never before has he killed, but he wills himself to _manage_ now, in protection of his charge. He pins Sephiroth to the wall, peels of _holy_ burning away at Sephiroth’s fallen nature. 

And then all at once an _explosion_ , of pure white, of pure _holy_ , something that would kill any corrupt soul.

Even the most powerful.

A spray of black feathers is all that’s left, cascading down as Cloud stumbles weakly over to Zack.

\-------------

He can _feel_ the way his blood drains, his breathing growing shallow and weak… But then that mouth is gone, and he can see bright light behind his eyelids, hear the sounds of _struggle_ … Like a wild dog tearing into prey. And he manages to open his eyes, just a crack, to see Cloud slamming Sephiroth to the wall, his damned blood on the floor among his own…

His own, which is still freely flowing from his shoulder and that unsealed _bite_.

He closes his eyes again when there’s a _flash_ of light, seeing red through his lids.

And then there’s silence, the sound of feet stumbling weakly towards him…

He manages to open one eye, peering through his lashes as unconsciousness threatens to drag him under. “C-Cloud…” is all he manages, however, before his body goes slack and he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

“‘m… sorry…”

\-------------

He’s still weak from what’s been done to him, but he starts with the most important things: sealing that throat shut, and then removing and sealing shut the wound at his shoulder. He calls 911, posing as a frightened neighbor...and when the ambulance comes, he charms the people to be convinced he’s a _lover_. Wings disappear...and he fills out the paperwork at the hospital.

He knows it all by heart. He knows everything about Zack Fair.

He’s in a coma, the poison from a demon’s blade, the trauma from battle. One collapsed lung, broken ribs, and other trauma…

Cloud doesn’t need to sleep. He just sits nearby, holding onto Zack’s hand…

_...normally...souls are crushed, when felled by demons. Forbidden from heaven or hell, just...crushed to dust…_

_...yet...somehow...she had remained. Trapped as though strung to Zack through invisible fibers, knowing if they were to sever, she would dissolve…_

_She’s only been conscious for a few hours, to watch confused as he lays unconscious in a hospital bed. Her fingers brush against his cheek, along his jaw…_

_“...Zack..”_

_Yet she catches not his attention, but another’s, a blond nearby. Despite his innocuous appearance, she can immediately sense something more...an angel?_

_His guardian?_

_He watches her as though regarding._

_“...the doctors...say he should wake,” comes the blond’s voice, directed to_ **_her_ ** _, as there’s no one else in the room. “...your killer...he’s dead.”_

_Her hand rests softly against Zack’s brow, bowing to press a gentle kiss there…_

_\-------------_

_He doesn’t… remember much. He remembers Cloud closing his wounds, remembers being painfully moved to a stretcher… He remembers an EMT leaning over him and asking him… something. Something about his name…_

_What’s his name?_

_He feels like he’s underwater. Everything is cold, yet there’s no solid place for him to lay or stand. It’s dark, frightening, and yet he feels_ safe _. He feels protected here…_

_But then there’s light, and he’s lying on his couch, looking up to see chestnut hair and_

_evergreen eyes. And he smiles despite the look of concern, bowing his head into the_

_soft, gentle kiss…_

_But she’s distracted, looking beside Zack… And for a moment, all he sees is the empty floor, but then Cloud is there, sitting on his knees on the floor…_

_He watches those lips move, yet he cannot hear._

_“Aerith… What’s going on?”_

\-----------------

_Though for her it’s only been moments, since her frantic phonecall and the feeling of pain, horror, and then, frightening darkness...Cloud tells her it’s been years. Zack looks older, bearing scars…_

_But when his spirit brushes back against hers, she can’t help a soft noise of delight, slipping into the world his mind provides. His apartment._

_“...he...he says...it’s over. That you’re sleeping now...but...you have to wake up…”_

_She looks down to his hand, and though no one holds it in this fantasy, Cloud holds it in the hospital._

_“...you’re in rough shape, but...your angel says you’re gonna make it…”_

_\-----------_

_His brow furrows at the information she provides, reaching his other hand, the one that has a stiff-feeling wrist, he takes her hand in his._

On the hospital bed, the hand in his bulky cast twitches.

_“I… couldn’t kill him. That’s all I ever wanted to do, was just… avenge you. To make up for what I was… too late for…”” His eyes grow damp, though he blinks it away, holding her hand tight. “I thought… I thought he killed me, too, and I thought… m-maybe I’d see you…”_

_He swallows._

In the hospital, his eyes dart under his lids.

_“But you’re here… A-Aerith, I don’t wanna wake up. It hurts…”_

_His body_ aches _. from his neck to his wrist to his ribs and his lungs, it hurts. And at least here,_

_he can ignore it. He can hold her hand with Cloud beside him, he doesn’t… doesn’t have to keep_

_fighting._

_“I just… want you to be able t-to rest in peace…”_

_\----------------_

Cloud’s hand joins the one only _he_ can see resting over Zack’s brow. 

_From the floor, Cloud looks up, resting small hands on Zack’s arm…_

_“...I’m with you, though,” comes Aerith’s voice, kissing the corner of his eye to catch a tear, “...it...it feels like..I just woke up…”_

_She glances to Cloud._

_“...am...am I awake because...he’s gone?”_

_Cloud nods softly, moving to sit on the couch near Zack’s head, to draw that head to his lap._

_“...her soul must have bonded to yours, Zack...just...dormantly.”_

_\--------_

_His eyes close as Aerith kisses at him, a little sniffle as he pushes back the tears. He watches Cloud, letting himself be maneuvered, though he doesn’t let go of Aerith’s hand. Almost… afraid. He’s had dreams of her before, though hazy and forgotten upon waking, leaving loss to hollow his chest…_

_He opens his eyes again, looking up to listen to Cloud’s words before he looks back to Aerith._

_“...Does that mean I got two guardian angels now?” he whispers, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “And you’ll both… always be here?”_

_To have her back, even if it’s just a soul. A ghost. To have her back is all he wants… For her_

_to be able to see her garden on the terrace that he’s been tending, to see the way he’s learned_

_to cook the dishes she would always make for him, though never quite as perfect._

_He just… wants to see her smile._

_\------------_

_She...isn’t sure. Lips part when Zack asks if she’ll always be there, bowing her head. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how long the threads will last, if something will happen and she’ll be cast into lonely blackness…_

_But Cloud reaches for her, pressing a hand to her shoulder._

_“...not gonna let you go, I promise. I’ll keep you both together…”_

The doctors come in. They’re going to try rousing Zack…

Cloud watches the heartrate monitor with _pain_ , almost having a heart to tell the doctors to _stop_ to just let him rest a few more hours…

Aerith looks frightened as they come close, hearing the beeping of the machines. 


End file.
